


Presence Concealment D

by labocat



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 08:42:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12602704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labocat/pseuds/labocat
Summary: Carmilla has many better things to do than to be summoned, against her will, under her younger self. Or deal with the incompetents tasked with preparing the Halloween party.





	Presence Concealment D

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laylah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/gifts).



Really, being summoned as a servant at all was beneath her. It was unbecoming of a noble at best, unforgivable for a woman of reputation and power like her, and an atrocity above all to be bound to her younger self. Her unrefined, impetuous, foolish younger self. Really, it could not be borne.

But she could bear even less an attack on her reputation such that she would suffer if anyone discovered what a foolish plan Elisabeth had undertaken and then, worse, _failed_ at. It would not do. 

“You there! If you cannot set a proper table without your hands rotting, then what good are you? And you! If your head must be on fire at all time, at _least_ make sure none of the linens fall prey to your clumsiness!” She sighed. Good help was so hard to find - it had taken her decades to find servants she didn’t have to replace every season; she was not surprised her younger self had conjured up this band of buffoons. 

A skeleton wearing a pumpkin tottered up to her with a plate of canapes, presenting them for her approval. She stared down at the platter, with its haphazard presentation, partly-burnt hors-d'oeuvres, and somehow fingerprint smears on the mirror-finish and looked back up at the pumpkin head, eyes narrowing.

“Is this what you plan to present to the guests when they arrive?” Carmilla asked, tone as neutral as she could get while still dripping disdain. As if there were sets of muddy footprints across the floors again. Those werewolves would never walk again, much less tread dirt on her floors. 

The skeleton paused, then nodded, its pumpkin head rattling along with its bones. Carmilla tried not to sigh. There was nothing of value to be gained by obliterating it. Really, it was nothing more than bones and reanimated third-hand. Any energy she could drain from it would be useless. She turned her back to the skeleton and heard its bones clatter as it relaxed.

And yet…

“Phantom Maiden!”

The entire kitchen staff was caught in it; at such a scale she at least felt as refreshed as a short afternoon nap. Even if now she did have to deal with the banquet preparations herself.

Really, what a fool she was in her youth.

Though, she couldn’t blame Elisabeth. A part of her still remembered wanting to be loved, adored, always in the spotlight. The Grail promised to make desires come true, and what was she now if not a product of her own unkempt desires? 

She would not back down now - to do so would be to betray her very core, to deny she took no pleasure in the taste of blood spilling across her lips or refreshing her skin better than water, but every time she heard an echo of her foolish self’s concert practice, she couldn’t help but think, _what if_.

The invitations were to be sent out today, to this party the Grail would somehow allow to exist beyond a dream. Elisabeth had talked of sending it to everyone, of how surprised all of Chaldea would be to see her castle, to hear her concert. How she would be sure to make a contract with the master candidate they’d all heard about.

She would not back down; she had no shame about who she had become, but they had already seen the Grail work in mysterious ways. She was already an entity separate from ‘Elisabeth Bathory’. There was nothing to say her younger self had to make her same choices.

Perhaps this master candidate would make a contract after all.

Another crash resounded from down the hallway of Castle Csejte and Carmilla sighed. If the party happened at all, that is.

She sighed and tied back her sleeves, reaching for the spoon to stir the tomatoes that were stewing on the stove. If you wanted something done right...


End file.
